Poetry

Dopey

Dopey dawn drapes the sleepy street, A yawn‑soft haze in amber light, Where thoughts drift slow, like wool‑soft feet, And time seems wrapped in cotton‑tight. In every glance a gentle grin, A harmless

Check

A quiet pause, a moment’s check, The hand that lifts, the breath that steadies— A simple tick upon the list, A whisper of assurance, soft and mild. In corridors of thought we

Hover

Hover In the quiet hush of twilight’s sigh, A kestrel lingers, wings outspread, A silver thread of breath held high, Where earth and sky are softly led. Below, the meadow hums

Fuzzy

Fuzzy thoughts drift like cotton wool, Wrapped in a jumper soft as cloud, Edges blur in twilight’s hush, A blanket of warmth, comforting and proud. In the quiet, the world feels gently indistinct, A tender

Award

A gleam upon the shelf, a modest prize, A quiet testament to steady hands, It catches light in muted, humble guise— Not gaudy fanfare, but the quiet stands Of effort woven through the daily

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